Thanks
by Phoenixfyretail
Summary: Gwen, after doing another mission, is injured, again. Carlos isn't pleased. Oops. Involves Characters from Invasion. So read that first. OC's!


Thanks

I can hear Carlos freaking out at me, his deep voice bellowing tirades in Spanish in my right ear. (Thanks for actually speaking a language I understand Carlos. Thanks a lot. That was sarcasm.) I keep running like the devil himself is chasing me, making for the only safety I can see at this particular point in time. The river. I leap off the dock, and dive in, making for the bottom and swimming along with the current, trying to get away from the pirate camp that is chasing me.

I emerge about 30 seconds later, and lo and behold, no one is chasing me. I hear a giant explosion a few seconds later, followed by enraged yells from the pirates, who's camp has now been exploded.

"Hell Yeah!" I yell, fist pumping, and calling the attention of the tiger nearby. It growls and runs at me, and I make for the river.

"That's a tiger, that's a tiger, that's a tiger!" I yelp, and jump back in just in time, swimming successfully away. When I get home a little while later, still completely soaked, and covered in mud, scratches, and totally grinning like an idiot with my victory, I can practically feel the fuming anger radiating off of Carlos.

"Gwen… What the HELL HAPPENED?" He roars, his anger just covering up his worry for me. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears, and I have to try really hard not laugh. Instead, I peel the sticky, wet hair off my face. I had lost the earpiece as I jumped in the river.

"I didn't mean to worry you, ya big worrywart. I just did as the plan said I would. I just accidentally got seen by some stupid sniper. Don't know how though, he was high as fuck."

He glares at me, and I can see the, 'Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh…' through his dark eyes, which are warm.

"Go dry off. You look like a drowned rat." He says, turning away to go find something to eat.

"Geez. With pickup lines like that, how aren't the ladies lined up at your door?" I say, rolling my eyes and walking off to find a towel. I can hear him snort into his glass of water, trying not to choke as he starts to laugh. There. Serves him right.

I change my clothes, and lay mine on my windowsill in the sun to dry. Carlos had grudgingly acknowledged that I needed clothes to do missions in, and had given me a pair of his cargo pants and one of his red skull shirts. I peeled the wet garments off and changed into my clean and dry jean shorts and a turquoise tank top.

I walk to the bathroom and fluff my hair out, and take stock of my injuries. Luckily, Carlos didn't seem to notice them, or he would be hovering over me for the next three days. I examine each one, but one on my arm really needs stitches. I had gotten it from when the tiger that had chased me had actually managed to claw me, and them claws are SHARP.

It was about four inches long or so, and quite deep, though it had scabbed up after I held a rag to it on the boat ride home. I searched the bathroom cabinets for the medical kit, and realized in horror that it must still be downstairs in the kitchen closet, where Carlos keeps all the emergency medical stuff, and the leftover morphine from when Pagan was badly injured.

I bit my lip in derision, and tried to lift my arm. It hurt badly, and I could feel the freshly scabbed over wound split open again, the warm blood trickling down my arm. I grabbed a rag and pressed it tightly over the wound, and made my way regretfully down the stairs. Carlos looked up as I came down, and his face paled when he saw the way I was clutching my arm.

He rushes over, bag of chips now forgotten, and takes stock of the blood soaking through the rag. He points to the kitchen table, where there is a chair pulled out.

"Go sit. Now." His voice is tight, and I can't read his dark eyes.

I nod and do so, in too much pain to really argue. Boy am I glad I mostly wear tank tops. This would be hell on my clothes. After hearing him digging around in the closet with a lot of, 'Where the fuck is it?', he comes over. He drops aforementioned medical kit on the table and pulls his bandanna off, dropping it on my head. I glare at him and he smirks at me, before pulling the rag I have over the wound off. The grin is wiped away from his face, and he frowns, hissing his worry. Even I wince at getting a good look at it. The wound is ragged, and you can see the dirt in it from the claws that got me.

"How did this happen?" he asks, the concern flowing into his irritated voice. He's good at that. I pull his bandanna off my head and tuck it in my pocket.

"…tiger." I say, looking away, propping my elbow on the table so he has easy access to the wound on my bicep. I can feel his 'really?' stare at my head. He sighs and opens the medical kit, and goes to get a bowl of clean water and a couple small towels. When he comes back, he drops one towel in the bowl and keeps the other out.

He then floods water over the wound by squeezing it out of towel and I jerk away, grinding my teeth and clenching my hand on my thigh harshly in pain. He notices, and, after catching the dirty, and bloody water with a towel, guides the hand that was on my thigh to his waist.

"Hold onto me as much as you need." He's blushing, but I can tell he means it. My other hand, the elbow of my wounded arm supported on the table, is clutching at his belt. He floods the wound again with clean water, and I tense again, but it doesn't hurt nearly as bad this time. He nods when the water finally has no dirt in it, after a couple rinses.

He dabs around it again with hydrogen peroxide, and then looks at me, after I stop wincing from the very intense sting of the foaming liquid.

"Do you want me to use anesthetic or no?" He knows about my dislike for drugs of any kind, but I'm still shocked that he asked. I nod, and I watch as he prepares the needle with the ease of someone who is very experienced, and he injects around the wound to numb the pain enough to stitch it.

Swiftly, he administers the stitches necessary to close it, all 19 of them. When he finishes, his gentle, calloused hands wrap bandages around it, to keep it clean and closed. I still haven't let go of him, my arm now locked around his lower back. He packs away the med kit, and looks at me.

"Thanks Carlos." I say, letting him go and blushing as I do so.

"Yer welcome. Lemme put this away, and then it's food time."

He turns, going to put the med kit away, when he seems to remember something. He puts the kit down, turns, and before I have any idea as to what's going on, I'm pinned by the hips against the kitchen wall.

"C-Carlos… Wha… What are you doing?" I say, and I can feel the blush explode across my face. How awesome. Now I look like a tomato. Great going, face.

He doesn't answer, he just leans down as presses his lips to mine, kissing me softly. Gently, almost as if he was afraid that he would hurt me. I reach up with my good arm, looping it around his neck, the other hand catching his belt loop and pulling his hips to mine, where his hands still rest. He grunts in surprise, but his mouth opens against mine, and he kisses me forcefully, tongue coming out to explore.

His hands slither up my back, and one tangles in my hair, the other resting on my lower back, his fingertips just brushing the strip of bare skin between my shorts and my shirt. We part for air briefly and then crash back together, my hand on his hip slipping underneath his shirt, my fingers touching the warm, tan skin of his muscled back. He jerks in surprise, and his mouth pulls away.

"Gwen…" He murmurs, his deep voice lowering into something rumbling, the deep tones mouthwateringly sexy.

"Carlos…" I can hear myself say, still in a bit of a daze from the unexpected kiss.

His dark eyes look into mine, and I can see all the things unsaid within the dark depths. I can see the love, the worry, and the concern that I would leave.

"Don't worry. I won't leave." I whisper, and I can feel his sigh of relief as his head hangs down, his forehead resting on my shoulder.

"Good." He says, his voice breathy, and his hand slides down to join his other hand on my lower back. I just hold him close, my thumb stroking the skin of his lower back. I jerk slightly in surprise, when his hands slip up my shirt as well, his warm palms covering the entire expanse, fingers easily grazing the middle of stomach around my waist.

"You are so warm..." I hear his whisper, his arms pulling me closer to him. His chest is very solid against my breasts.

"Yeah. You too." I say, my one hand just gently stroking his muscular back. He smiles into my shoulder.

"Thanks Gwen."

"No problem." I say, my forehead tipped forward against his shoulder. I smile, and close my eyes. He even smells good, something like fresh pine and wood and smoke and something very masculine. Delicious.

"Want some food?" He says, breaking the silence a few moments later.

"Yeah. Do we have pizza?" I say, pulling away when he does.

"Yeah, want some?" He's grinning full out now.

"Yep. Pizza time." I'm laughing.


End file.
